


the beat of you breathing

by turnpikedarling



Series: my favorite chords [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, M/M, Public Sex, Rimming, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnpikedarling/pseuds/turnpikedarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, want to fool around in the supply closet?” Stiles asks, wrapping his arms around Scott from behind and hooking his chin over Scott’s shoulder.</p><p>Allison coughs pointedly and Derek takes a very long, very loud sip of his coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the beat of you breathing

**Author's Note:**

> porny coda to [here in the smallest bones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1929618)! come say hi on [tumblr](http://mickeyed.tumblr.com)!

Scott’s surprised it takes Stiles a full two weeks after they start dating to suggest they fuck in the shop. He doesn’t even joke about it for the first few days they’re together, which is a testament to how badly he’s trying to respect Allison’s rule about employees and nudity, if Scott’s really being honest about Stiles’ ability to restrain himself. But on their two week anniversary, Stiles marches right into the waiting area where they’re all having a perfectly nice morning and suggests it right in front of everyone.

“Hey, want to fool around in the supply closet?” Stiles asks, wrapping his arms around Scott from behind and hooking his chin over Scott’s shoulder.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Cora answers immediately, looking up from where she’s got her nose stuck in the appointment book. She’s getting everyone’s schedule ready for the day and looks totally amused.

Allison coughs pointedly and Derek takes a very long, very loud sip of his coffee.

Scott can feel Stiles grin as he buries his face in Scott’s neck, kissing it loudly while everyone else just rolls their eyes and goes back to their business.

“Hey, Scotty, I’m serious,” Stiles whispers into Scott’s ear as Allison’s counting cash from the day before.

Right. As if Scott ever would have thought he wasn’t.

///

Stiles makes good on his promise the next day, pushing Scott into the closet and scrambling like he’s making up for lost time.

“Fuck,” Scott breathes out, letting his feet take him backward as Stiles shuts the door behind them, closing them immediately into near-darkness. Scott stumbles over a box on the ground, and his back hits the free-standing shelf that houses most of their ink as he finds his footing again. It holds, supports his frantic weight, and for a second he can see a glint in Stiles’ eye before Stiles crowds in and pins him up against the metal, hands roaming everywhere they can possibly touch.

“Alright?” Stiles asks, tangling a hand in the hair at the base of Scott’s neck, tugging hard because he can.

“If you stop,” Scott murmurs back, a quiet but desperate affirmation, and Stiles pulls a little more as he presses their mouths together.

Scott opens under his touch, the insistent slide of their lips enough to tighten the muscles in his stomach, make his fingers shake as Stiles dips his tongue into Scott’s mouth. Stiles tastes him over and over again, humming with the heat of it, dragging his nails down the back of Scott’s neck. Scott knows he does it just because he likes to see Scott shiver for him, lose the last bit of control on his humanity.

“What do you want?” Stiles asks as he pulls away, and Scott whines up at him a little bit, not even ashamed at all. 

They only have ten minutes for their lunch break, so he feels good about being as needy as he damn well pleases. 

“Tell me,” Stiles says, teasing one of his hands down the front of Scott’s chest as he sucks a loud hickey onto his neck, biting at the skin just above Scott’s collarbone. He runs his mouth against Scott’s tattoos there, the contrast of the ink, leaving little red marks as he goes. Scott watches as Stiles takes a minute to admire his work before he comes back up, takes Scott’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugs just a little until Scott moans.

“Come on,” Scott mumbles against Stiles’ lips, hitching his hips forward when Stiles’ fingers stop at his waistband and don’t immediately dip into his underwear. “Come _on_.”

Stiles grins against Scott’s mouth and complies.

Scott sees him undo the button of his jeans and pull down his zipper, deft fingers making quick work of getting into his pants. He tips his head back the second Stiles gets his hand on his dick, lets it fall against the cold metal as he closes his eyes, and he tries to breathe through his nose so he doesn’t come in a record time of under thirty seconds. They’ve only got until the end of their lunch break, but he wants to make it last as long as he can.

Stiles starts to tease the head of Scott’s dick with his thumb, sliding his fingertip slowly against the slit there, smearing precome as he goes.

“I love,” Scott exhales, breathing getting slowly faster as Stiles pulls his hand away to spit on it.

Stiles smirks and drops his hand back down, wraps it around Scott and twists his wrist just right, playing with his foreskin because Scott fucking loves it when he does. With every slide of his hand up to the head and back down to the base, Scott feels his stomach get even tighter, his toes curl even further in his shoes.

“I love,” Scott tries again, and then the door slams open and Cora switches on the light.

“Jesus Christ, Stilinski, I didn’t think you were serious,” she laughs, staring at them.

Stiles shrugs with Scott’s dick still in his hand. “Well, I was.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” Scott manages through gritted teeth, screwing his eyes shut against the light.

“Yeah, well, I need some stuff for my next appointment,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Even with her grungy, dirty crop top and backwards Raiders hat, she manages to look like she’ll kill them both if they don’t move.

So they do.

“Save that thought,” Stiles says, leaning in to kiss Scott soundly before he pulls away completely. Scott ducks past Cora as soon as he pulls his pants back up and he can feel the blush on the apples of his cheeks, the pink spreading all over his skin.

They’re close, his pack, his little family at the shop. They know everything about each other for the most part, all their preferences in the bedroom and how they like their eggs in the morning afterward. It’s just something that isn’t embarrassing, especially to the wolves in the pack, and the humans got pretty used to it after awhile. 

Scott didn’t really ever think they’d be this close, though.

“At least lock the door next time,” Cora calls after them, and when Scott turns around he can see her swinging the door open and shut as she tries to air it out.

“Yup, will do,” he yells back, and then turns the corner with a smile.

///

It sort of becomes a thing.

Two days later, Allison unlocks Scott’s work room when Stiles is blowing him up against the bench in there that people sit on when they’re getting pierced. At least she has the good sense to close the door immediately and wait for them to get decent, laughing and tapping her foot out in the hallway the whole time. When they walk out of the room she raises an eyebrow and slides past them, fumbling around for a minute in one of Scott’s cabinets before she grabs some gauze and leaves.

“Wash it down when you’re done,” she says as she’s walking away, waving at them over her head.

The day after that, Derek walks in on them making out on the couch in the waiting area and just rolls his eyes and sits down next to them. Stiles is propped over Scott and rutting against his thigh and Scott can tell he’s so, so close to getting himself off. Instead, Stiles just freezes in place and glares at Derek as Derek eats a muffin.

“What the fuck, dude, we’re busy.”

“Oh, sure,” Derek deadpans, peeling down the baking paper when he’s done systematically destroying the muffin top. “Sorry for interrupting your incredibly private moment in this incredibly private place.”

That one might have been their fault, to be fair. 

Scott just kind of keeps finding himself in these situations, spread wide underneath Stiles’ roaming limbs and mouth, in various states of undress as his pack walks in on them. Their alpha, laid out under a human touch.

He doesn’t hate it, actually. He thinks maybe Stiles is doing it on purpose.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” 

Stiles looks up from where he’s sitting on a stool behind the counter, sketching out a mermaid skeleton he’s doing for Allison later. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles answers, totally dry, but there’s something devious in his eyes that Scott recognizes, that he loves into the ground and back.

They haven’t said that to each other since they started dating, either. Before, it came easy: tossed around when someone brought home burgers, said in passing when one of them got to leave work early, spit out fast and happy when one of them did some really good work on a client.

Now it’s like they’re holding it a little closer to their chests, a little more aware of what it means. Not like it’s ever changed, anyway. Scott knows it’s always been true.

“I thought so,” Scott tells him, smiling and happy.

“Yep,” Stiles says, popping the ‘p’ and looking around the room. Cora’s at the register with her headphones in, the waiting room’s empty, Allison’s with a client.

“So,” Scott whistles, drawing out the sound for as long as he can. “Want to try again?”

///

This time they end up in Stiles’ work room.

“We could just,” Scott grits out, grinding his hips down and letting Stiles’ fingers slip into him over and over, claws latched soundly to the door and wood splintering under their sharp and scrabbling edges. “We could just fuck at home and avoid all this,” he manages.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stiles asks, curling his fingers as they sink into Scott’s ass, looking for that spot that makes Scott see bright blinking lights behind his eyes. Stiles has already found it a few times and it’s taking all of Scott’s alpha strength to stay upright and holding on despite the fact that Stiles is supporting some of his weight too.

“Hey, hey, Scotty,” Stiles murmurs, sliding a third finger in next to the two he started with. Scott taught him early that he’s built for it, loves the stretch and burn of starting fast and hard, and Stiles learned fast and never looked back.

“Hey, lift,” Stiles tells him, pulling out suddenly and patting the bottom of Scott’s thighs. Scott’s naked from the waist down, and even the drag of Stiles’ fingernails against the skin on his knee is enough to make him shake out of himself for a minute.

Scott lifts his thighs and Stiles wastes no time, just hauls them over his shoulder and settles in.

“Fuck,” Scott breathes, looking down at him. He loses sight of Stiles’ face when Stiles ducks down, darts his tongue over Scott’s open hole and fucks his tongue into him.

Scott’s dreamed about this, honestly, sitting on Stiles’ face while Stiles rims him, and the reality is just as messy and loud, just as fucking amazing as he thought it might end up being: Stiles’ mouth is hot and wet and right, his stuttered breath, his tongue damp and desperate for whatever Scott will give to him. He rolls his back and hitches forward, taking Stiles’ mouth with him, letting Stiles’ tongue dart in and out of him as he tries to keep up with the movement.

“Shit,” Scott yelps when Stiles teases his hole with two fingertips, circling the pucker of skin there, hooking two just inside his rim as he eats Scott out. Scott feels so full, just from the drag of Stiles’ chin against his thighs every time he dips out and then in again, from the splay of Stiles’ fingers when he spreads them inside of Scott and presses the flat of his tongue there.

Stiles stays like that, lapping slowly into Scott’s open hole, for what feels like hours. He circles the tip of his tongue, takes it so well when Scott fucks down desperately onto it, barely takes a minute to catch his breath before he urges Scott to keep going.

Scott feels Stiles slip his fingers out and palm his ass open, pulling Scott’s cheeks wide so he can kiss the skin there, where Scott needs it most.

“God, Scott,” Stiles murmurs into him. The vibrations absolutely send Scott reeling. 

“God, you taste amazing,” Stiles says again, taking time to rub his nose between Scott’s cheeks, burying himself as far as he can into Scott’s ass and just breathing for a second.

“Hey, look at me,” Stiles says when he pulls away.

Scott looks down and sees Stiles flushed red, slick with spit all over the bottom of his chin and his nose, blissed out and happier than he’s been in days. 

“You ready?” Stiles asks.

All Scott can do is nod.

Stiles drops his legs and Scott’s on solid ground for the first time since they started, but it only lasts as long as it takes for Stiles to roll a condom on and line himself up, arms wrapped back around Scott’s thighs as he lifts him again.

Scott’s claws dig in above his head. They might have to replace the door.

“You good?” Stiles checks, and Scott nods again.

“I’m good, Stiles, fuck, just do it, just fuck me.”

“Impatient,” Stiles smirks, and then Scott feels him slide in. He holds himself there, breathing steady as Stiles adjusts his angle, and then stutters out a noise he didn’t even know he could make when Stiles bottoms out.

“Go,” he growls, realising in that moment that his fangs had dropped at some point between when they last kissed and when Stiles buried himself to the hilt. Scott runs his tongue over them, their sharp points, and drops his head back against the wood as he bares his neck. “Stiles, _go_.”

Stiles does. The first thrust is hard, heavy, a sure pace that drills Scott in half and breaks his last resolve to keep quiet at all. It doesn’t help that Stiles leans forward and drops his mouth to the dip at the bottom of Scott’s throat and swirls his tongue there, tasting Scott’s sweat and reveling in their bodies, entwined. 

This feels just like another form of themselves to Scott, bound together in every place they can be, finally so close that he’s not really sure where one of them ends and the other begins. The heavy smack of Stiles’ hips against his ass, the drag of his dick against Stiles’ rucked up shirt, the pressure between their bellies that’s going to send him over the edge: it’s all just what they should have been doing all along, this slamming together of themselves, this new way of loving each other into shattered pieces.

“Fuck, fuck,” Scott chants, trying not to yell, to keep it as professional as he can while he’s getting fucked at his place of employment. 

Maybe there’s no saving the situation after all.

“I’ve gotta hold you,” Stiles spits out, thrusting hard, leaning into Scott’s chest and closing the distance there. “I can’t,” he tries. “I can’t touch you.”

“Don’t need to,” Scott manages to get through clenched teeth. “It’s enough, it’s enough, I’m gonna.”

Stiles presses closer and Scott feels it all over, the harsh slide of his cotton tshirt catching on his dick, the slick of precome smearing on his stomach. It’s too much, it’s just exactly enough, and he catches Stiles in a bruising kiss as he comes all over himself between them, shaking apart, shaking down and clenching every muscle in his body.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles yells as he thrusts twice and stills against Scott’s body, trapping them both there as he comes too. They fall over that edge together and come down laughing into each other’s shoulders, sliding to the floor when Stiles says his legs feel too much like jelly to keep standing.

Scott leans in and kisses Stiles hard again, looking for his home in this boy, and Stiles gives it all right back to him. A place to know he’s loved, to feel safe, to feel like he’s exactly where he should have been all along.

“Give me my pants,” Scott says after awhile, reaching across Stiles to where he’d been stripped of them earlier. He’s too lazy to pull them on so he just puts them in his lap and breathes. 

Stiles grabs his hand, pulls it up to his mouth and kisses it, and then very suddenly they’re both falling backwards and landing on the floor, looking at up at a very amused and upside-down Allison.

“You’re lucky we didn’t have any clients,” she tells them both, towering over them.

“I checked the book,” Stiles counters.

“What a good employee,” she deadpans, motioning for them to get up, but she’s got a smile on her face. “Put some pants on, McCall. I want you both out there in two minutes.” 

She laughs and steps over them so she can grab a clean towel from Stiles’ chair, and then steps back out again, easy as she came.

“At least we finished this time,” Stiles says, turning to Scott and absolutely dissolving into laughter. Scott kisses every part of Stiles he can reach, and then they pull each other up and dress as quickly as possible.

“Hey,” Scott says, smiling at Stiles as he’s buttoning up his jeans again. “I love you.”

“I know,” Stiles answers, winking back at him and looking like he’s maybe just won the lottery. Scott feels like they probably both did, ending up a part of each other like this, always an arm’s length away, always falling together at the right times. 

“Now come on,” Stiles grins, “Allison’s going to kill us if we’re late.”


End file.
